Cataclysm: Bloodstained Ashes
by Silver Caracal
Summary: Obi-Wan’s reaction after watching the slaughter of the Jedi at the hands of Darth Vader.


**Title**: Cataclysm (Bloodstained Ashes)  
**Author**: Firnuial  
**Disclaimer**: I do not own any characters or such, they belong to George Lucas. I am also not making any money off of this, it is purely for fun.  
**Timeframe**: ROTS  
**Characters**: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Yoda, mentions of Anakin  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Summary**: Obi-Wan's reaction after watching the slaughter of the Jedi at the hands of Darth Vader.

**Note**: This was written for the Song Roulette Challenge (tfn) using the song "Dream On" by Aerosmith (# 27).

_Cataclysm: (noun) A violent upheaval that causes great destruction or brings about a fundamental change. An event resulting in great loss._

* * *

"I can't watch anymore." And I couldn't. I couldn't watch my brother slaughter familiar faces. I looked at the old Jedi Master; begging, pleading for this to be some sort of mistake. A lie, a misunderstanding. A dream. But I could see it the truth in his eyes. The certainty. The decisiveness. He knew exactly what was happening, and exactly what he planned to do about it. I could see the cold, yet sad, propositions flashing at me through his steady, calm gaze.

_**every time that I look in the mirror  
all these lines on my face getting clearer **_

"Destroy the Sith, we must."

_He_ may have known what was going on, but _I_ was clueless. I was shocked. Numbed. _Terrified_. Thrown into a cold, dark river where I could only watch in stunned silence as I was slowly drowned by the bitter, bloody water.

Blood.

There was blood. Everywhere. Why hadn't I seen it before? But we only see what we can bear to let ourselves see. And the Force does not cauterize wounds like a 'saber does.

**_the past is gone   
it went by like dusk to dawn _**

This wasn't how it was supposed to end. It was supposed to end with the _downfall_ of the Sith, not their rising. Not the falling of the Chosen One. Falling, and then turning on the people who loved him most. It wasn't _supposed_ to be like this. It _couldn't _be.

But it was. Somehow, the impossible had found a way to happen, and my dreams of light and hope vanished like a naïve child's fairytale.

**_isn't that the way?_**

_**everybody's got their dues in life to pay**_

"Send me to kill the Emperor. I will not kill Anakin," I replied, detached from the moment, my voice coming from someone else a lifetime away. Let me fight someone I actually _want_ to fight, don't make me fight Anakin. Don't make me fight myself.

"To fight this Lord Sidious, strong enough, you are not," the diminutive Master stated in a tone that deterred any argument.

I sighed, about to agree with him. But then I stopped.

Why should I agree? How could he say I was not strong enough to fight a Sith Lord, but then tell me to fight the Chosen One, the most powerful Force-user to ever live? It made no sense; it was illogical.

Yoda's certainty turned to doubt within me, and I began to question his motives, his true reason for wanting me to kill Anakin. And the Force knows I didn't want to do it. I wasn't even sure if I could.

**_yeah, I know nobody knows  
where it comes and where it goes_**

"He is like my brother... I cannot do it." I don't want to. Don't ask me to. Realize your mistake and take it back – don't _do_ this to me.

But I knew he wouldn't take it back. He was too _old_, too _unchangeable_ to alter his views, to even _think_ about fighting against fate. Against what he thought was the will of the Force.

But it _wasn't_! And he couldn't see it. The Force was wailing in denial as one of the last Jedi doomed himself to death by _again_ choosing the cautious, careful path. The path that would inevitably succeed but took far too long to make any real difference.

There must be another away. This wasn't happening. It _couldn't_ be. The kind, wizened Jedi Master wouldn't do this to me. He wouldn't. He wouldn't sentence me to a fatal duel with my brother; one that would rip out my heart a thousand times over. One that would kill me forever if I somehow managed to survive. _My brother_.

**_I know it's everybody's sin  
you got to lose to know how to win_**  
**_half my life's in books' written pages  
live and learn from fools and from sages_**

I choked as the bitter, rotting feel of death finally broke through the feeble mental shields I'd managed to hold – they came crashing down in a thunder of soundless noise that pounded mercilessly through my head like a brutal shockwave, and the black creep of darkness began tearing at my skull, an echo of what Anakin would endure forever.

**_you know it's true   
all the things come back to you_**

And then I was screaming. Screaming until I had no voice to scream with, no lungs to _breathe_ with. Screaming until the galaxy would know my anguish, until some sympathetic soul would come put me out of my misery.

But I wasn't. Not really. I could only stare numbly at the bodies. The headless bodies with blood still draining from torn necks. And he had done it.

_He had done it_.

I couldn't scream... but I _wanted_ to.

**_sing with me, sing for the years  
sing for the laughter and sing for the tears  
sing with me, if it's just for today  
maybe tomorrow the good lord will take you away_**

And then the mental anguish turned to bitter laughs, and the absurdity of the whole situation seemed to drown out everything else, if only for a single, blissful moment. This had to be some sort of joke, some cruel prank – soon to be over. Soon to be teased about – forgotten.

For a moment I could hold onto that idea, that fleeting, dancing dream. But it _wasn't_ real, and I knew it. And so I allowed the dream to die. And when it wouldn't quite disappear, I cut the life from it forcefully.

He actually wanted me to do it. He _meant_ it.

I could fight against it, I could run from it – but the fact was that the cold-hearted, unsympathetic Jedi Master was asking me to kill my brother or to die trying.**_dream on, dream on, dream on,  
and dream until your dream comes true_ **

And with that realization the mirthless laughter that echoed mockingly within me died, and I could only stare, bewildered and betrayed, into those calm, green eyes that were oceans of nothing. Cruel nothing. But the hell that had invaded my mind remained and refused to leave.

"Twisted by the dark side, young Skywalker has become. The boy you trained, gone he is... Consumed by Darth Vader," Yoda persisted, trying to use his age-gained, manipulative wisdom as a shimmering diamond in the sea of shadow that he believed I was lost in.

But to me that diamond had darkened and crumbled into tainted black dust.

Something had changed. Something more than betrayal and heartbreak. And it left a gritty, bitter taste like sand in my mouth.

I met Yoda's gaze, and saw his complete confidence in me, his certainty – it bordered on arrogance – that I would continue to obey him as head of the Council, that I would never refuse his orders... even orders to kill the man that I loved as a brother.

It bothered me that he wouldn't say it. He didn't even have the courage to look me in the eye and tell me... to tell me to kill my brother. He never had admitted death. Even surrounded by bloody bodies ripped apart by the one meant to save us all... To him they had simply "become one with the Force."

_Destroy the Sith, we must_. Those green eyes were still there, boring into mine, relentless, waiting for my response of compliance.

They had always been there. After Bruck had died, and then Bant... At Qui-Gon's funeral... They were always _staring_ at me, trying to _know_ me, to know what I would do in any situation... as if he had been calculating this day all along.

And I began to _loathe_ those green eyes, emotionless things that were the exact opposite of the piercing blue ones that expressed everything.

Something snapped and suddenly the hell inside my head became a dead, static silence.

And I had made my choice.

"No." The word passed from my lips without regret, even though an uncertain, different feeling settled over me as I condemned myself to a darker path. My response was not angry or resentful, but neither was it apologetic or guilty. It was the perfect Jedi's response – nearly without emotion entirely.

_Nearly_. A thread of breathless anguish still lingered in that word, now forever woven into my fate and full of hidden meaning that I could not yet begin to understand, though it was my own.

The tainted black dust hardened into molten hot rock within my heart, scorching it beyond repair and forcing it to start again its lonely beating. My breath caught as the reality of my transgression began became apparent, and doubt joined the darkness still gnawing at my skull.

No to what? To who? Yoda? Palpatine? Anakin?

_Myself_?

I wasn't quite sure.

But then the hot fire that now raged inside of me began to burn away the doubt, and the darkness laughed. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore.

Everything was ashes. _Bloodstained ashes_. The phrase echoed once and stayed with the darkness.

Without waiting for a response from shocked green eyes I turned around and walked away.


End file.
